


The Language of Flowers

by the_haven_of_fiction



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_haven_of_fiction/pseuds/the_haven_of_fiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A florist teaches a new customer the language of flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Flowers

“Baby’s Breath!? Is this guy for real? Seriously? What is this, 1984? If a man sent me a bouquet with Baby’s Breath, I’d tell him to-“

My rant about the order was interrupted by Brandon’s soft but rife with meaning cough that was accompanied by his swift pointed eye movement to the counter. I glanced over the high table of blooms that were spread out in front of me and saw a tall man with thin pink lips that were twitching in amusement.

Embarrassment flooded me and I knew I must be blushing.

Well, just go with it. It’s too late now.

I set down the order sheet and walked around to the front counter of my shop.

“Good morning. What can I do for you?”

When those lips curved up and a sparkle danced in his blue eyes, I felt little gremlins on motorcycles speed through my limbs. 

“Well, I certainly won’t be foolish enough to ask you for anything with Baby’s Breath.”

I gave him a dazzling smile.

“You’re a very wise man.”

“I need a ‘Sorry for being a tit’ bouquet,” he said somewhat sheepishly, glancing around the shop as if he didn’t want to meet my eyes any longer.

“What size tit?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“Oh, I’d say about Dolly size,” he answered quickly, but blushing furiously almost before the last word left his mouth.

“I am so sorry, forgive me, what a terrible thing to say, I…” 

He was stammering adorably and I was having a terrible time trying to keep my composure.

“So is this a ‘Sorry for being a tit and forgetting to take out the rubbish like you asked me” bouquet or a “Sorry for being a tit and forgetting your birthday” bouquet?”

He raised a hand and tilted it from side to side.

“Probably somewhere in the middle.”

I pulled out a product binder and put it on the counter so that it was oriented to face him.

“Do you know your victim’s favorite flowers?”

The little giggle in response to my question made the gremlins start racing again.

“Uhm, no, I’m afraid I don’t. I haven’t spent much time with her yet.”

I mentally filed through my list of standard questions and located a few that I thought might work with this guy.

“Can you describe what her perfume smells like?”

That sheepish look was back on his entirely too beautiful face.

“No.”

“What colors does she wear?”

“Uhm…”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shut his eyes for a few seconds, a delightful shade of pink painting his cheeks.

Men, I thought to myself.

“She was wearing a purple dress on our date.”

Date, singular, I noted.

“Ah, so this is a “Sorry for being a tit and not calling you after our first date like I said I would” bouquet.”

He opened his eyes and giggled again.

“Yes, that would be an accurate description. You’re a very wise woman.”

His use of my earlier phrase wasn’t lost on me and I grabbed the color coded binder, moving the first one and placing this one in front of him. I opened it to the purple section.

“Why don’t you take a few minutes and look through this. Pick three and then we’ll look at them together.”

A sigh of relief passed through him and he nodded, beginning to flip through the pages. I stepped back to where Brandon had been watching the conversation. He was grinning at me and opening his mouth to say something. I put a hand up and gave him a look.

“Silence, B.”

His mouth shut, but the grin came back.

“Of course, Manager,” he replied sarcastically. “I’ll put together the Baby’s Breath order so you don’t have a hernia.”

I kissed him on the cheek.

“Aren’t you a life saver. This is why I pay you the big bucks.”

He snorted and went back to the stock room.

A few minutes later I walked back to the counter to check on the Tit.

He raised his eyes from the binder where his very long fingers Ugh, how did you not notice those before!!?? were bookmarking a few pages.

“I think I have it narrowed down. No Baby’s Breath.”

I gave him a thumbs up and he giggled again. I had to take a deep breath to steady myself.

He had picked out three bouquets that all contained lavender roses, but the third one also had waxflower and alstroemeria. 

“Let’s go with the third one, it has more personality. And somehow, I don’t think you’re lacking in that department.”

This time he threw his head back and let out a laugh that filled up the shop like a refreshing mist.

Oh, please. Do that again.

“I’d apply the same sentiment to you, Miss Green Thumb.”

________________________________________

Over the following several weeks, Tom, as I found out his name was, came into the shop without fail every Saturday morning. On the second visit, he asked for a bouquet that said “Thinking of You” and that became his standard order. Each visit he spent a longer amount time, asking my opinion about his choices. Our conversations eventually became more personal and he told me that he was appearing in a play. He would always ask about my week, how business was going, if anything humorous had occurred with customers. He was intelligent, charming, kind, educated, witty, and I tried not to think about how much I came to look forward to his visits. I knew they would eventually cease, as I had seen too many men be full of love and the desire to please their partner in the beginning and then the bloom would literally disappear. Yes, he was very gregarious by nature and probably just the kind of man who made friends without even trying. I told myself that he was simply one of those rare creatures who made life so much the more unbearable. Brandon had even taken to calling him “The Unicorn.”

On the Monday after his fifth consecutive Saturday visit, he messengered a pair of tickets to the shop. They were for the performance on Friday of that week. I was happy to accept them, knowing that the run had been sold out. The note he included said “Thank you for helping this botanically challenged man learn the language of flowers. Please let me take you and Brandon out after the performance.”

That Thursday afternoon he called the shop while I was out running some errands and left a message with Brandon that he had some unexpected family guests in town and wouldn’t be able to meet us for a bite after the show as he had planned. 

“He sounded awful, he kept apologizing,” Brandon assured me when he saw how disappointed I was.

This is for the best, you know it is. Time to get this guy out of your head even if you can’t get him out of your shop.

Brandon had come down with some kind of virus and I tried to make him give the tickets away to a couple of his friends, but he wouldn’t let me. He told me that it would be rude, considering how generous it was of Tom to give us the tickets in the first place and I knew he was right. I knew my cousin Steven, a drama teacher, would probably love to go with me. I rang him and he accepted. So I went, somewhat grumbly, but was completely won over by Tom’s performance. He was amazing and it was so interesting to see him as Tom the Actor instead of Tom the Customer.

I felt a strange mix of the usual excited anticipation and the newer strange nervousness as I opened the shop the next morning. I was elbow deep in calla lilies for a wedding order when I heard his voice.

“Well, Miss Green Thumb, did you and your companion enjoy the play?”

It always surprised me at how I reacted to simply his voice, but this morning there was something coloring it that I hadn’t heard previously.

Spinning around to face him, I was startled to see that he looked less than relaxed like he normally did. He was almost frowning slightly. I thought perhaps he might be apprehensive about my reaction to his performance and I decided to try to put him at ease.

“Oh, yes! I loved it! You are an amazing actor, Tom. I’ve seen that play before, but I’ve never felt for your character as I did last night. You made him so real and relatable. Thank you so much for the tickets.”

That seemed to brighten him for a few seconds and then the darkness returned to his countenance.

“And…your date. Was it an enjoyable night for him?”

He blinked once and his expression told me that he was probably realizing how his question sounded to me. He must have seen us from the audience, since we were sitting in the second row.

Is…is he JEALOUS?

I was so stunned at the idea, especially since I was almost certain that he was in a relationship, based on the reason for his coming into the shop for the first time weeks ago.

Quickly deciding how to respond to him, I went for the completely honest route. I had never been one of those people who liked to play this game.

“He wasn’t my date in that sense of that word, Tom. He’s my cousin, he’s a drama teacher. And yes, it was a very enjoyable night for him.”

He looked terribly embarrassed and in a manner that seemed almost like a reflex, he reached up to place a hand on my shoulder and began to rub up and down my arm.

“I am so sorry, my friend. Forgive me. I was quite rude just now.”

I was too mesmerized by the sensation of his big warm hand on my skin to think of some sarcastic retort.

“It’s alright, Tom. What do you need today?”

He smiled briefly and looked at me for a moment or two before answering.

“Thank you. I need a ‘I Think I’m Falling In Love With You’ bouquet.”

Ouch. Why does that hurt?

I somehow managed to keep my expression and tone light.

“That’s quite a tall order. Do you have any ideas for that?”

His hand dropped from my arm and I had the unexplainable urge to grab it and put it back on my skin.

“No, I leave it entirely in your more than capable hands, Miss Green Thumb. I would very much appreciate it if you would choose the flowers and arrange them. Make it something that you would want. Would you do that for me, please?”

I was going to have to tell Brandon that I needed him to take over on Saturday mornings. I had to stop this. It was cruel to myself.

“Of course I will do that. It might take a bit longer than usual. Would you like to wait and take it with you or have it delivered?”

“I’ll wait,” he replied softly.

I returned about half an hour later, hoping that the traces of tears on my cheeks wouldn’t be noticeable. 

When he saw the arrangement of roses, hydrangeas, and peonies, he stood up and one of those blinding smiles lit up his face like a spotlight.

Definitely. No more Saturday mornings for you, missy.

“Oh, my goodness, that is absolutely exquisite. She will adore it. These are all her favorites.”

I frowned, feeling a bit confused.

“So you know her favorites now?”

He took the flowers from my hands.

“I just found out about 30 seconds ago.”

Wait, what??

“That first bouquet I ordered from you…it was also beautiful, but it didn’t have the desired effect. She wasn’t won over. So, I’m hoping this offering fares better.”

WHAT???

“Would you do me the honor of accepting these flowers?”

Now he was trying to hand them to me.

“But you said this bouquet was meant to say “I Think I’m Falling In –“

I gasped.

He nodded at me.

“Yes, that’s what this bouquet is saying.”

I blinked a few times and tried to control the urge to do cartwheels.

“Then it’s a good thing I speak Flowerish.”

Sparkling blue eyes and those thin smiling pink lips were coming closer and closer to my face.

“And what is the answer in Flowerish?” he murmured, his gaze falling to settle on my mouth while his knuckles brushed across cheek.

“Oh, it’s better if I show you.”

“Wonderful, darling. I’m ready to learn.”

I was mere inches from the first taste of his lips when a thought suddenly occurred to me and I pushed him away slightly.

He grunted in surprise and his eyes met mine with some apprehension.

“Wait a minute, Romeo. What about all those other bouquets? You said they were for another woman!”

His expression could only be described as puppy-dog innocence.

“I don’t recall saying anything of that sort, darling. That must have been you assuming such a thing. They weren’t for another woman. Remember, that first bouquet didn’t have the desired effect? It was probably for the best. I let myself be talked into asking her out by a mutual friend and it turns out that she’s head over heels for that friend and he was trying to…to point her in another direction, shall we say. Every one of those gorgeous creations of yours sat in someone’s office or dressing room at the theatre.”

I scowled at him.

“You deliberately attempted to deceive me. That’s not very nice, Tom. I thought you were a gentleman.”

Something between a frown and a smile pinched his features.

“Well what does a gentleman have to do to get a girl to notice that he’s crazy about her? I had to think of some reason to keep coming back to this enchanted garden of yours,” he said in exasperation.

I scowled again before his words completely processed in my brain.

“Crazy about me, heh?”

“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes returning to my lips for a few seconds while his fingertips traced over my jaw. “Completely. Crazy enough to attempt to deceive you, which I admit, wasn’t very gentlemanlike of me at all. I’m sorry, darling. Forgive me? Will you still teach me Flowerish? Maybe you should give me my first lesson before you decide if I am an undeserving student, not worthy of your expertise.”

His long fingers were meandering down my neck and playing a tune across my collarbone.

“I’m an exacting teacher. I hope you can keep up.”

He giggled at me and his long arms wrapped around my waist.

It was the last thing either of us said for a while.


End file.
